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“Your place?” Doyle roused himself and peered out of the car window.
“Yep.”
“Tell me it’s not the top floor?” Connor asked morosely as he looked on the four-story apartment block again.
“Then I won’t tell you.” Peter smiled and offered a surprisingly gentle hand.
In the full light of the loft Axon surveyed the damage to his associate and winced. “I think we should get you cleaned up and into bed.” Peter led Connor into his bedroom and sat him on the end of the bed as he stripped away the torn clothing, revealing bruises along the lightly furred frame. He came back a few moments later with a bowl of warm water, cloths and towels along with the medical kit and began to gently bathe the wounded areas. Connor sighed softly and amazingly allowed the touch, his own body responding to its urgent demands and it wasn’t till Peter touched the peroxide drenched cotton wad to his lip that he realized and pulled himself upright.
“I can do the rest.” Connor blushed and fidgeted and Peter was entranced. The man actually was embarrassed at being touched. Since such a rare opportunity showed itself he continued his gentle ministrations.
“Connor just once let me do something to help you.” Peter pleaded gently and continued applying ointment and salve to the various scrapes.
Doyle lowered his head and smiled sadly. “Would that I could,” he said and Peter’s heart ached.
“Why not?” Peter tilted the defiant chin back up so that he could look into the liquid chocolate depths of his friend’s eyes. Connor sighed and leaned forward brushing his lips against Peters. Axon was riveted to the spot, unable to move, to breath and his lack of action embrazened Connor as he kissed him again, cupping his head in his hand and parting the sweet lips. Shocked Peter sat on his heels and grasped the sides of the bed pushing gently into the kiss and when it ended he saw utter misery in Connor’s eyes.
“That’s why.” Connor said quietly before standing up and going into the bathroom.
“So basically” Matt drawled, “your great seduction of Peter was you got drunk and stuck your tongue down his throat.”
Connor laughed. “Elegantly put, but basically true.”
“And the rest is history?” Matt put the mug down, enthralled by the tale and feeling closer to the man next to him in each passing moment. He realised somewhat belatedly that he was being a little voyeuristic in this but dismissed it immediately, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Well not precisely.”
The pain strobed through his head like hot needles and he groaned as he rolled onto his side and buried his face in the pillow. Connor remember vividly why he didn’t drink and cautiously cracked open an eye. The light that shot through him galvanised him to the spot and he put the pillow over his head to shut down the roaring in his ears. It didn’t help.
Gentle fingers dug into his shoulder, and he froze. ‘Oh God,’ he groaned inwardly. ‘What have I done?’
“Connor.” Peters voice was incredibly loud.
“Decibels.” Connor muttered as he pushed himself upright and regretted the movement, everything hurt.
“Decibels?” Peter smiled and cocked his head to one side.
“You’re exceeding your decibel limit.” Connor waited for the room to stop swaying and looked around. It was extraordinary. The bedroom was walled on one side by huge plate glass windows, curtain-less, looking out onto a cheerful courtyard complete with heavy cedar furniture and huge plants in terracotta pots on flagstone. Peter sat on the side of the bed, clad only in low-slung grey sweat pants; Connor closed his eyes and groaned.
“Aspirin.” Peter prodded the clenched fist open and dropped two white pills into his palm along with a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
Peter waited before taking the glass away and crossed his legs on the bed; Connor avoided looking at him, all sleek lines over muscle and sinew. “You had quite a night.” Peter chuckled and Connor rested his head against the padded headboard.
“So it seems, luckily I don’t remember most of it.”
“Fortunate I guess. What do you remember?”
“Being angry, getting drunk and by the looks of me probably into a brawl.” Connor looked at his hands.
“You’re lucky- you should see it from my side.” Peter laughed. “Local policeman is a friend we helped on a case a while back. He recognized your ID.” Peter reached behind him and threw Connor’s wallet onto his lap.
“So the old man doesn’t know?” Connor checked his wallet and was grateful to find it intact.
“No. No charges were laid, Vaughn called me to come and get you and well here you are. Since you’re on compassionate leave for the next few days I suspect that your face will more or less return to normal before you have to confront him.”
“Great. And thank you, by the way.”
“Oh I just love getting up at four am to go visit drunk tanks. You can buy me dinner when you feel better.” Peter pushed up off the bed and threw a towel onto it. “Shower’s over there, new toothbrush is on the counter and there’s some shaving gear. Your clothes.” Axon prowled the room and produced a brown paper bag full of foul smelling clothes. “Are pretty much cactus. But you can borrow some stuff. Might be a bit big for you though.” He pulled out a pair of jeans washed to butter softness and a jumper along with underwear that curiously was still in its store bag. Connor swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched the lithe frame move around the room, his eyes catching on the tattoo on Peter’s shoulder.
“You were in the Marines?” Connor asked schooling his treacherous body into calm.
“Once or twice.” Peter laughed. “Marine Recon.”
“Semper Fidelis, Always faithful.” Connor pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’ll feel better after you shower.” With that Peter dropped the clothing onto the bed along with a robe and padded to the kitchen.
Visions, he hated vision especially in strange showers, while his body ached under the hot spray and prayed for him to be still. His mind reared into alert status as terror and despair flooded through him when he closed his eyes. He’d kissed him, he’d actually kissed him and Peter was still being civil. He marvelled again at the gentle soul of the man who’d come to his rescue and prayed that the other shoe would drop sooner rather than later. He couldn’t live in suspense like this and needed to go home. Instead he dressed in the borrowed clothing and freshly shaven; he made it into the kitchen.
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